


That is Distracting

by alisvolatpropiis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actor Stiles, Derek With Dogs, Fluff, Grad Student Derek, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Meet-Cute, Stiles With Dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 16:19:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2031669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alisvolatpropiis/pseuds/alisvolatpropiis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://serfborts.tumblr.com/post/92955526348/what-whos-this-little-guy-i-do-wanna-say-hi">
Inspired by this delightful moment from SDCC.</a> </p><p>(I made it a puppy instead of a baby because reasons)</p>
            </blockquote>





	That is Distracting

**Author's Note:**

> This lil' piece o' fluff brought to you by Dylan O'Brien's unending adorableness [and love of puppies](http://shuckface-spaceman.tumblr.com/post/76622942976/who-needs-valentines-day-when-you-can-have-this)

Derek glares at the latest crescendo of cheers and gasps that come from the room across the hall from the hotel coffee shop, tightens his lips in annoyance again before checking for the dozenth time to see if the headphones volume can go up any louder. 

It can’t of course, and he’s probably already doing a fair amount of damage to ear drums, but he really can’t care about that at the moment because in less than two hours he’s presenting the most controversial chapter of his dissertation to nearly every important scholar in his field and he can’t fucking concentrate because _someone_ thought it would be a good idea to have this conference at the same hotel as something called FangCon _._ From what he can tell, it’s a fan convention for a TV show. Derek isn’t sure because he’s been buried under his diss for the better part of a year and even before that, during coursework and exams, he never really had the time to watch a lot of TV, even a show with a gorgeous, golden-eyed actor with a ridiculous name like Stiles McCall.

He’s focused, not _blind_ , okay? He’s seen all of the posters of the guy, one of the stars of the show Shapeshifted, plastered around the hotel lobby. Derek’s never paid much attention to celebrities, never really understood the appeal of lusting over someone he’d never meet and probably would hate in real life anyways. But this Stiles guy – well, let’s just say he understands why most of the convention attendees seem to be excited young women and queer men. The guy is beautiful, wiry and lithe, wild dark hair and pink cupid-bow mouth that is smirking in a lot of the posters, but is slightly open in mild seduction in others, pouty and wicked-looking. In those posters he’s got red eyes and fangs, and yeah, they're...effective. 

But now, he has to focus. He’s got a hard copy draft of the conference version of his chapter, preferring to do the final edit by hand before presenting. He’s still not entirely happy with is introduction and he’s still not sure he’s included enough theory, chewing on his pen and trying not to glance up to stare at the huge poster of Stiles in the lobby that he can see from here. Derek’s always been a sucker for brown eyes, and Stiles’ are something else, like molten honey, and he’s sure they’re probably photoshopped or something, no one’s eyes are really that gorgeous, even darling, wild-haired Hollywood boys with pretty pink lips –

“Derek!” The yell comes with a yank of the earbud from his ear, and he growls, glaring up at his sister.

“What the fuck, Cor?”

“Sorry, I know your thing is soon, I’m so excited, so happy you invited me to share this special day or whatever, I’m totally going to be there, but um…I need you watch him for a just a few minutes right now, okay?”

His younger sister – who his mother insisted he bring to the conference so she could see her big brother be successful, maybe inspire her to go back to college – reaches into her oversized leather bag that she kinda lives out of and thrusts a small black puppy in Derek’s face. 

“What the fuck, Cor?” He repeats, louder this time, even as he grabs the puppy. Honestly, he’s not sure why he’s surprised. The only thing predictable about his baby sister, who he adores, is her unpredictability. 

“I was walking around town, getting some air or whatever – “ from the heavy scent of pot wafting from her hair, Derek knows exactly what kind of air she was getting, would be annoyed at her for not inviting him if he didn’t have his panel coming up. “And there was this guy, giving away puppies. Look how cute he is, Der! He’s half lab, half Newfoundland. He’s going to be huge!”

The puppy is shaking, scared, poking it’s adorably wet little nose against Derek’s only nice shirt, making these tiny little yipping noises that stab right into his heart. He sighs heavily, hugging the dog closer. “Why do you need me to watch him, Cora? You know I'm presenting in a couple of hours.”

“Yeah, and it will only take me a half an hour or so find the pet store. He needs food, a leash, a collar, toys, maybe one of those tennis ball chucker things, and shit, what should we name him? I get veto power.”

Derek sighs again, knows that Cora can’t be argued with, knows that making her take the puppy with her to the pet store will only mean it will take her even longer, and that she’d probably come back with the rest of the litter and a herd of cats too. “Hurry,” he says. “And stay focused, okay. Only get the essentials for the next few days. We can get him everything he needs when we get home, okay?”

“Love you, Der-bear!” She hollers as she darts out of the coffee shop, leaving Derek alone and anxious with an equally anxious, nameless puppy.

He gets him on his lap, one arm wrapped loosely around his soft, warm body, still trembling a bit. He picks up his pen and returns to his paper, glancing at the time on his iPad before he gets back to what he’s hoping will be his final read-through before the panel. He’s not sure his nerves can handle reading it again, although, he’s finding that the puppy, small and scared as he is, is a calming, soothing presence.

He makes it through one more page before he’s distracted again, this time by a small group of reporters barreling into the coffee shop and setting up camp across half a dozen tables in the corner, iPads, recorders, microphones, and notes as far as the eye can see. He hears one of them explain to the barista that they need more space for interviews, and Derek rolls his eyes, wondering if it’s worth it to leave and try and find a new spot to work when he’s only got a few pages left, and the puppy – he really should find a name for the little guy – is finally starting to calm down, even leaning against his chest, big brown eyes looking up at him.

He sighs and scratches his ears, letting him lick his hand for a bit before he grabs his pen again. He barely gets through a sentence though, when he’s distracted again, this time by a flash of dark blue and a soft, gentle cloud of subtly expensive cologne, and when he looks up, _him, the guy, Stiles_ , is sitting across from him, those fucking unreal brown eyes wide and sweet as they track over Derek’s face and then fall to the puppy, mouth going wide too.

“What?! Who’s this little guy? I wanna say hi but it’s gonna take up time that we don’t have for the interview.”

Derek stares dumbly at him, knows his mouth is hanging open but can’t seem to shut it. He just surprised, _not_ star struck, thank you very much. He just wasn’t expecting to see the stunning, mole-dotted face that’s been staring down at him from glossy posters all weekend, maybe even showed up in a dream last night. Stiles McCall is even more beautiful in person, his lively, fluid energy lighting him up, almost making him glow, and fuck, his eyes really are that color. Suddenly Derek understands all of the squealing he’s heard.

He swallows hard, grips a little tighter onto the pup for moral support. “Excuse me,” he manages to croak out, using the hand that’s not clutching onto the puppy to push his glasses up his nose, blinking hard, making sure he’s not hallucinating.

Stiles doesn’t seem to hear him, still focused intently on the puppy, sweet little eyebrows going together in concern. “How sweet. Look how scared he is.” He leans back a bit and shrugs, gestures vaguely around the loud coffee shop. “This is probably horrible for him.” His long, graceful hand goes to heart then, utterly sincere. “Is he like…” Stiles is so goddamned _concerned_ it makes Derek’s heart crack just like the damn puppy did.

Stiles pauses for a second, his face transforming from wide-eyed concern to friendly professionalism in a heartbeat. “Sorry, let’s go.” He shifts forward, moving the empty Coke can Cora left so he can lean his long, nicely-muscled and tan forearm on the table.

“Um…” For a split second, Derek considers going along with it – clearly Stiles thinks he’s a reporter, and how hard could it be to ask him a few questions? He’s overheard enough conversations in the elevator and, yeah, okay, maybe he googled the show and then Stiles specifically. But he’s a terrible liar, even when he’s not flustered and blushing because those eyes and that hair and that mouth and those hands, fuck, they’re all _doing something_ to him that he doesn’t recognize but wants so much more of.

Stiles loses his focus _again_ , eyes again falling from Derek’s to his chest, where the puppy is burrowing at him, nosing at the buttons of his shirt, getting his sharp little teeth around them. “That is distracting,” Stiles says, pointing in admonishment, and Derek lets himself pretend that he’s not just talking about the dog.

And then, because the universe hates him, the puppy yawns, and Stiles’ expressive face goes wide, copying him, eyebrows rising and mouth falling open in a perfect little O that Derek wants to lick into, mouth falling back into a smile when the puppy falls heavily against Derek’s stomach and closes his eyes. “He is so cute,” Stiles sighs dreamily. He looks up at Derek then, eyes finally holding his for more than a second, and then he’s blinking hard, fidgeting in his chair, hand gripping the back of his neck.

“Do you want to hold him?” Derek blurts out, because he’s not ready to tell Stiles that he’s not a reporter, not just yet.

“Oh my god, yes, I’d love to,” Stiles practically squeals, hands reaching across the table. Derek hooks his hand under the little guy’s chest and hands him over, smiling when his fingers brush against Stiles’ in the soft fur. “What’s his name?” Stiles asks, clutching him to his chest, giggling as he licks his chin.

Talk about distracting. Derek can’t answer Stiles right away, focused as he is on the little grin he’s hiding, on his long, dark lashes that flutter so sweetly as he nuzzles his face into the pup’s neck.

Derek takes a long gulp from his latte, staring shamelessly at the man, taking full advantage of what little time he has in his shimmering presence. “He actually doesn’t have one yet.”

Stiles looks up at him, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Yeah, well, my sister just got him about half an hour ago. We’re, uh, still getting to know each other.” 

His smile is a gift, bright and wide, pink lips shiny from where he’d been licking at them when Derek was talking. “So you brought your brand new, nameless puppy to work – at a place this crazy?” He’s not being critical, a little teasing maybe, possibly even flirtatious.

“Well, my sister doesn’t always think things through.”

Stiles just laughs and shrugs like that’s enough of an explanation, like he’s accustomed to accepting idiosyncrasies. The puppy has stopped licking him, is starting to settle against his chest the way he had against Derek’s, and fuck if that isn’t the sweetest thing he’s ever seen. “So,” Stiles says. “Ask away. I’m sure you have lots of questions about season three. Personally, I’m really excited about what we’re doing with Dylan’s bisexuality – “

He stops when he looks down to the table, to Derek’s conference paper, eyebrows scrunching together in confusion as he twists his neck a bit to read a sentence at random. “‘The ideologies of heteropatriarchy are inhered in the very ‘progressive’ and ‘liberatory’ politics that claim to undo them,’” he reads aloud, Derek’s cheeks growing hot with embarrassment to hear his academic jargon in Stiles’ sexy, husky voice.

Stiles looks up at him, dark eyes mischievous now. “You’re not a reporter,” He says slowly, still scratching the puppy’s ears and holding him against his chest, looking up at him again. 

Derek sighs. “I’m a grad student. There’s a conference upstairs, I’m presenting soon. So, yeah. Not a reporter.”

Stiles laughs with his whole body, making the puppy stretch and rub against him. “Oh my god, dude, I am so sorry. Fuck, you must think I’m insane. Have you even seen the show? Shapeshifted, on MTV?”

“No,” Derek admits, honest to a fault, shoulders slumping a bit.

But Stiles just laughs even louder, head thrown back. “Oh fuck, dude. I am so sorry for barging in on you and practically kidnapping your puppy. Probably not what you needed right now,” he says, gesturing towards his paper.

“I don’t mind,” Derek says quietly, heart racing at his boldness. Well, boldness for him at least.

Stiles stares at him for a long moment, soft smirk playing on his lips. “I’m Stiles, by the way,” he finally says. “Stiles Stilinski. Well, Stiles McCall, professionally,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Hi Stiles. I’m Derek Hale.”

~*~

Not long after they introduce themselves Stiles’ assistant finds him, makes him give the puppy back to Derek and shuffles him off to his interviews before Derek can get up the nerve to ask him out. Derek packs up his things and the dog quickly, not looking back at him as he leaves the coffee shop. 

It’s probably a good thing that he didn’t get a chance to ask him. He doesn’t really want to go into his presentation full of the bitter sting of rejection. Wistful, what-could-have-been isn’t much better, but at least he’ll be able to get through his paper without crying.

He’s determined not to be distracted by his too-brief encounter with Stiles. When he's about halfway through his paper – feeling really good about it, nerves melting away the moment he started speaking – he glances to the very back of the full room for the first time, eyes finding Cora.

Cora, who’s sitting next to Stiles.

Stiles, who’s smiling at him, holding the puppy. 

The puppy, who’s now wearing a bright red, spiked collar and a bandana that looks suspiciously like it bears the Shapeshifted logo.

Derek pauses for a quick second, swallowing before tearing his eyes away, not missing a beat. He finishes his paper without further distraction, smiling as he returns from the podium to his seat at the table with the other panelists.

He should be preparing for all the questions about his work that he's going to be asked soon, but all he can think about is how excited he is that he finally figured out what to name the puppy.

**Author's Note:**

> He names him Dylan, of course. ;) 
> 
>  
> 
> [come hang out on the Tumbles](http://deleted-scenes.tumblr.com/)


End file.
